


A Day in the Life

by drowninginspace



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, M/M, OT3, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-18 11:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowninginspace/pseuds/drowninginspace
Summary: An inside glance at the lives of your resident Iceman, an angelic LT turned student and your very own Ray Ray!





	1. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Looking at the scene around him, Nate sighed. The car was totaled. That much was certain. The entire back section completely and utterly mangled, it almost hurt to look at what had once been a Toyota Camry bought only a few short years ago. The front wasn’t much better, with the air bags inflated and poking out of the car.

It could have been worse, he supposed. Ray could have been inside the car when it happened. But he wasn’t and Nate sent a quick prayer of thanks to God, Allah, Yahweh, anyone that was listening up there for that small blessing. Now, to deal with the sad shape in front of him.

Sighing, he approached Ray silently, slipping two arms around his wiry body and resting his forehead on the other man’s shoulder.

Looking at the crash scene, red and blue lights flashing and people milling around aimlessly, they stayed in that position for a while, taking in the absurd calmness surrounding the situation. 

The minutes began to tick by and Nate’s concern began to grow. The only time Ray was ever quiet for this long was during a tour and as enlightening as that experience had been, he had no wish to repeat it. Those long periods of silence and empty stares were something he’d rather forget, especially with the corps in the past for the both of them. Brad was another story but he couldn’t dwell on that right now. He had the idiot before him to deal with.

“Ray,” he began, gently squeezing his hands, “it’s ok. Everything’s going to be fine.”

When Ray didn’t respond, he tried again.

“I know you’re worried about the car and Brad but it’s alright. It wasn’t your fault and-”

And with that, Ray spun around, the fury of a hundred fires flashing in his eyes.

“Hell yeah it wasn’t my fault homes. I was an innocent bystander, carrying my bags of groceries to the car,” he exclaimed, waving his arms around, matching his pace with the dramatic rendition of the night’s events currently being told , courtesy of Ray-Ray the great.

“Then suddenly, I’m watching a tiny shrimp of a car plow into my beautiful baby because apparently old ladies lose the ability to tell when and where to park a car. Hint: It’s not where there’s already a car!” 

Glancing around, Nate could tell that they were getting some strange looks. Which, granted, they deserved. Crazy, hand waving men were weird anytime, but at crash sites wasn’t the best. On the other hand, Ray obviously had some feelings and now was as good a time as any to get them out. Tuning out of his mental debate, he realized Ray hadn’t stopped talking and was gaining steam the more he continued.

“Seriously, there should be laws against letting people who can’t see farther than their own hands drive. And did you see the dude that came to pick Grandma Sally up? He was older than she was. That shit ain’t safe! And Brad’s gonna be a complete bitch about it. Man, he probably already told Poke about how an old lady beat me. This isn’t fairrrrrrrrrr, why is life so meeeeeeeeeean to meeeeeeeee!!!!!!”

The complaining got more and more absurd, the events of the day obviously taking their toll on him. Ray had insisted that it wasn’t that big of a deal, and maybe it wasn’t, but the depth of the destruction demanded that they stay in the supermarket parking lot for two more hours than planned. Which meant it was 11 pm and he’d been handling Brad’s frantic messages and Ray’s sleepy declarations of “fuck you” for much longer than necessary. And all of it for a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, he thought sadly, with a shake of his head.

When the EMT told him that they were cleared to leave, Nate practically jumped out of joy, ready to kiss him in thanks. Instead, he murmured a few thank yous, grabbed Ray and the godforsaken ice cream, and all but sprinted to where Brad had parked the car only moments earlier. 

He should have had something done about Ray’s car, it couldn’t just sit there. But the officers at the scene had assured him that it was fine, they’d tow it in the morning, so he was beyond caring.

All he wanted to do right now was get home, throw the melting ice cream into the freezer, and crawl into bed with his boyfriends. Which wouldn’t happen anytime in the near future if Ray insisted on sprawling all over the back seats.

“Babe,” he said, voice weary, “I’m going to need you to make some space for me too. Otherwise I’m going to die in this parking lot and I don’t think you want that.”

“You’re right, we don’t,” Brad’s voice interjected before Ray could say anything. “So move your butt Person and make some room for Nate.”

Ray inched over and Brad shifted gears and they were driving home, the lull in the conversation comforting after listening to police sirens for the past few hours.

It was all silent, in fact, until they were in bed. Ray in the middle, Nate to the left and Brad’s arms encircling them from the right, he was slowly drifting off when he heard a voice pipe up.

“Just to be clear, it wasn’t my fault. The old lady should have watched where she was going. And gotten better glasses.”

“Shut up Ray.”

“I love you too, Brad. You too, Natey Nate Nate.”


	2. "Ray, I’ve just heard…she’s alive, Ray. J-Lo is alive."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray's sad and Nate's (unknowingly) sad that Ray's sad. So he comes up with a plan to cheer him up and, in classic Nate style, it actually works. Pretty well. Wow. What else did I except. It's Nate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I based this off of [this](http://aces-low.tumblr.com/post/166479324250/001-for-either-bob-or-gen-kill) tumblr post made by aces_low. The title of the chapter and a line used in the fic came from the original post.

The idea came to him at the end of the football game. Shit had been building up over the past few weeks and they’d all been feeling it. Person especially felt the effects of the current shitshow going on, his shoulders constantly tense with the knowledge that he was driving his team into near constant ambushes.

He’d noticed it actually, the way he’d been getting quieter the closer they got to Baghdad. It started with a decrease in obscene and outlandish comments, slowly ending with barely a word said to anyone. Even Brad couldn’t get Ray to utter more than a few sentences at a time, communicating mainly via facial expressions and hand gestures. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, they’d done it all the time while on the road. Still, the background noise, something for the men to focus on other than their desolate situation, was oddly missed. 

When Ray walked up to the guys with a football in his hand, Nate felt a swell of hope. Maybe things would be fine. Maybe everything would go back to normal (as normal as things could be in the middle of a fucking war, at least) and they could pretend that they knew what the hell was going on. But that option went flying out the window as soon as Ray rammed his head into Rudy.

Watching him walk off the field, Brad close behind, Nate felt as if there was something he could have done, anything really, to make things better. He couldn’t improve the shitty circumstances and taking a vacation was out of the question, what with having to invade countries and fight wars. But if he could cheer up Ray, the rest of the guys would follow suit. 

Wondering what he could possibly do, he went to a meeting with Godfather. 

It was there, in the middle of wanting to gouge his eyes out whenever he-who-shall-not-be-named open his mouth, that a plan began to form. It all started with how his life seemed to be a comedy. From there, it went to Ray, because there was no one in the entirety of the Marine Corps who had met Ray Person and didn’t associate him with amusement in some shape or form. It just so happened that Nate got a kick out of Ray’s particular brand of humor. 

If they’d met somewhere else, at another time, Nate would have very much liked to be friends with him. And Brad. There was something about the two of them that drew Nate to them, like a moth to flame. Maybe it the relief that he had someone to depend on in this shitshow. Maybe it was the daily entertainment they provided. Whatever the reason, he had to suck it up and make sure all of his guys made it home alive and in one piece, with their sanity more or less intact.

Which brought him to his current plan, which he was about to put into action. In ten minutes. If Godfather would shut the fuck up about morals and what Mattis wanted. 

By the time they were free to go, he had begun to wonder if this all would work. A simple joke and a pat on the back wouldn’t fix their problems, wouldn’t bring them back home, wouldn’t do anything, so why-

“You better get in there and put on a good show,” Gunny said to him, pulling Nate out of his existential crisis. “Those guys need this right now and overthinking it ain’t gonna do them any damn good LT. All this pent up energy needs to go somewhere, might as well be for this.”

“I’m not sure about that Gunny,” he replied, ears picking up faint murmurs from the hall where all the guys were gathered, growing louder with each step they took. “I don’t want them to feel as if their complaints aren’t being taken seriously. There’s already so much I can’t do for them, I’m really not in the mood to screw this up either.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Gunny informed him, stopping at the entrance of the hall. These guys, they like a good joke. And drama’s what they live for. Worse than a group of gossiping old ladies if you ask me. Either way,” he said with a slight smile, “Person needs a kick in the ass to get back to normal. Colbert refuses to do it, his job as the mother hen making it a bit difficult. If you get the job done, the guys will worship you. Pretty sure they’ve been missing his motor mouth these past few days.”

“Well,if you don’t see me in a few minutes, assume I’ve died of shame,” Nate informed Gunny as he crossed the room and took the last plunge. 

“You’ll be fine, Lt,” he heard Gunny call from behind him, “can’t be worse than losing an entire damn supply truck.”

Smiling, he scanned all the faces in the crowd, not finding it that difficult to figure out where Ray was. Usually you could follow the sound of his voice and he’d be right there, explaining to an often unwilling audience his various theories about the war. Now, however, all he had to do was trace Brad’s somber gaze and Ray was right there, staring at some nonexistent object in front of him, his eyes glassy and not here. 

Taking a deep breathe, he called out to him, putting energy into this performance as if his life depended on it.

“Corporal Person, I got news from the Battalion Commander just minutes ago and I thought you should be the first to know.”

The men usually listened to whatever Nate had to say when he entered a room, it was a force of habit. They didn’t pay attention but they listened. 

Now, though. Now, he had the eyes and ears of everyone in this room and probably some outside of it too. Ray had snapped out of his reverie, sensing that something required his attention. 

With those dark, soulful eyes on him, Nate cursed himself for not thinking this quite through and just jumping ahead with the plan. Whenever officers had anything to say, it was usually bad news for the guys. The men around him, they were all tense, wondering what the news was, what it had to do with Ray, if another pile of shit was about to be dumped onto them. He couldn’t keep them waiting any longer.

“Ray, I’ve just heard…” Taking a long, shuddering breath, he said, with the most happiness he could muster up, “she’s alive, Ray. J- Lo is alive.”

All around him, the men burst into cheers and laughs, Garza weeping tears of joy and Chaffin patting him on the back, Poke shaking his head, Christeson and Stafford bursting into song, Brad rolling his eyes.

But it was Ray that Nate was looking at, observing his face for any hint of what might be going on in his head. 

It was strange, really, because it was all a mixture of emotions that he couldn’t place, here one second and gone the next. 

Suddenly, Ray had crossed the room and was draping himself all over Nate, the mischievous glint in his eyes back after so long.

“Thank you Lieutenant, thank you for once again bringing meaning into my life. I can now fight with a new passion, knowing that J-Lo is well and alive.” Pausing dramatically, Ray continued on with the act, more and more of his former self shining through with every passing moment. “My only hope is that one day, far into the future, I might meet her and tell her in person that she inspired me to be the person I am today…”

Shaking his head, Nate turned around and left the room, having done his job, his mind begging his feet to stay where he was, soaking in just a few more moments of peace and happiness and overall contentment

Later, Brad would come and thank him for helping Ray out. He’d talk about him in a way that made Nate ache, the loneliness setting in further while he watched Brad walk back to Ray, the distance between the two growing smaller and smaller. 

If he’d chosen another path, it wouldn’t be this way. He’d be able to join them, laughing and smiling openly and carefree. But he did choose this path and with a war going on, Nate had to go back to his office, alone, to sort through the mess Battalion had made, hoping to get all of his guys out of here alive. 

Maybe, when all of this was over, it wouldn’t be like this. Maybe, when all of this was over, he could mingle with his men without any worry of rules and regulations. Maybe, when all of this was over, he could have a beer with Brad and discuss philosophy with Ray. Maybe, when all of this was over, he’d actually get to do what he wanted to do. But to get to the future he hoped was in store for him, he had to work on the present.


	3. “I know what I want, when I want it. So get over here.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brad has some news and shows up at Ray's house to tell him in person (Ha! Get it?). Only, it doesn't exactly go as he planned. Which, to be honest, Brad should have expected. Has he even looked at his life? When does it ever go as he plans? Exhibit A: Ray Person

“I’m so stoked you made it homes! I mean, yeah I invited you over but I didn’t think you’d actually bless good old Nevada, Missouri with your presence,” Ray exclaimed, closing the door after Brad entered, barely missing slamming the door on the fingers that lingered near the door knob. “It’s gonna be great! We can shuck an ear of corn together, drink moonshine, maybe tip some cows. My humble self is at your service.” 

At that current moment, he was bouncing around the tiny kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, peering into the refrigerator, banging on pots.

He was nervous. And Brad knew that Ray knew that he knew that Ray was nervous. Which, to be fair, wasn’t the whisky tango’s fault. It was Brad’s, considering the trip hadn’t been planned for anywhere in the near future, for either of them actually. 

It had been more of a reckless decision made while riding down the highway, wind in his hair and head clearer than it had been an hour before. He’d been given a choice and he hoped that he’d chosen correctly. Now, all that was left to do was inform the assholes in his life. Which led him to the doorstep of a pale, worn out home, which was the current residing place of a certain tone deaf imbecile.

“I think I’d rather skip the cow tipping,” Brad drawled, scanning his surroundings, “and watch a movie instead. Maybe some pizza.”

Hearing the usual disinterest present in Brad’s tone, Ray’s smile grew, which Brad watched happen with fascination. 

“Lucky for you,” Ray began,waving his arms around in an extremely passionate performance of a windmill, “I know how to treat a dude right. Drop your bags, homes. We’re going to get the food from the finest pizzeria in Nevada, Missouri.” 

Walking to the door, on his way to get the keys and a jacket, he added over his shoulder, “Which also happens to be the only pizzeria in Nevada, Missouri, the small slice of heaven in which you are currently in.”

Shaking his head, Brad commented, loud enough for Ray to hear over the exaggerated motions of shrugging on his coat, “I’m beginning to regret coming here and it hasn’t even been a full 15 minutes. I believe that’s a world record, Person.” 

He hadn’t heard a retort after that, so really, he should have known what Ray was planning. After all, slipping into the car, with Ray as driver and Brad in shotgun, was too simple. The action was too familiar, easy, much more than it had a right to be. No jokes, no insults, no chatter or music on the radio, nothing. Just a twist of the keys in Ray’s fingers, a shift in gears, and they were off, down the dusty lane that passed for a road in these parts.

And Ray brought up the very topic that Brad had avoided mentioning.

“Alright Brad, you’re going to have to spill the beans. Why are you here? Not that I don’t love you, cause I do, but you’re killing me here.”

His eyes were on the road but Brad felt Ray’s energy as if it was currently punching him in the face, which was very impressive considering his height and lack of body weight. However, breaking the news in a car while driving wasn’t the best idea, which called for a distraction. That was, Brad thought absently, something he could do. Avoidance tactics were something he was an ace at. Emotions and ways to express them, not so much.

“I wasn’t aware that people still said “spill the beans” in normal conversation,” Brad remarked, purposely keeping his face blank. The less feelings he expressed, the less he’d want to shout out the news and see Ray’s reaction. “I mean, teenage girls say it, yes, but I was under the assumption that you weren’t a part of that demographic. Unless, of course there’s something you’d like to express to me.”

“Come on Brad,” Ray cooed, “I know you want to tell me. It’s ok. Mama Ray’s here now, everything will turn out ok, I got you.”

Turning his head around very slowly to stare a hole into the side of Ray’s head, Brad said the first thing that came to mind.

“That is one of the most repulsive sentences I have ever heard, second only to young Harold James Trombley’s incoherent mumblings. Never speak in my presence ever again.”

“Me gusta Brad, me gusta…” 

That last phrase was accompanied by wiggling eyebrows and a shit eating grin, both of which made Brad question his decisions in life and where he was headed.

“Ray, I swear to god, I will…”

“Fine, fine,” Ray complained, parking the car in the tiny space in front of the store. ‘You’re such a miser. You come to my town, into my home, ride in my car, eat my pizza, and still won’t tell me shit? Best Friend of the year Brad!” 

“Stop nagging me and get the food, I’ll tell you when we get back to your place,” Brad replied, opting to remain in the car. He had to plan out how to tell Ray everything.

However, it didn’t go exactly as planned. Which, if you were familiar with Brad Colbert’s life, was how things often went. His original plan was break the news that he was being transferred to England in about a year, gauge Ray’s reaction, and offer to go on a road trip based on how the situation was at the time. He’d figure everything else after that. Assuming he made it that far, of course.

Here’s how it really went.

They sat on the sofa, eating pizza (which was actually pretty good), drinking cheap beer and commenting on some stupid movie whose name he could quite remember. 

A few hours later, when Ray’s mom had shooed them outside to “get some fresh air,” they were sitting on the back porch, drunk and laughing at a story Brad was telling (it involved Poke, an old lady, his 3 year old daughter, and some nail polish but that didn’t matter right then). The sun had set by them and Brad was disturbed to find out that the night sky was just as picturesque as his mother and sister swore it was. Or maybe that was because Ray was silent for once.

And that right there, the fact that he preferred Ray when he had his mouth shut, was a lie. One that Brad usually acted on like a truth but he was drunk right now and he hated drunk Brad simply because he did and said whatever came to mind. And right now, he had decided that he needed to fill up the quiet that had began to surround them, Ray looking off into the distance.

“I’m shipping off to England in about a year,” Brad mumbled, feeling the loss of the words as soon as they left his mouth. But he couldn’t quiet regret it because Ray’s head whipped around and his eyes looked alert once again, alive, full of electricity. He looked nice like that.

“What?”

“Corps is doing an exchange thing with the Royal Marine Corps, Fick put in a word for me before he left. So Batallion offered and I accepted.”

“That’s nice, I guess.” The words were said with a false enthusiasm, Ray dimming once again, and Brad felt like he had to explain. Explain it before he fucked it all up and let Ray down.

“That’s actually why I came here, I wanted to tell you and spend some time and maybe, fuck. I’m messing this up. I had an entire thing made up and…” He trailed off, shaking his head. Looking up at Ray, though, there was confusion on his face, meaning that he didn’t understand what Brad was trying to convey. Which, understandable. It was hard to get what Brad was saying if he couldn’t fucking form a full sentence. So Brad did the next best thing he could think of.

Suddenly standing up, he grabbed Ray by the shoulder and leaned in, their lips lightly brushing against each other, comfortable and strange at the same time. Ray didn’t run for the hills but he didn’t reciprocate either. Growing uncomfortable with the silence, Brad pulled back to explain.

“I love you. And since I’m leaving soon, probably for a few years, I thought I’d spend some time with you now. Make up for missing time and all that shit. Didn’t plan on kissing you, though. That just happened. Sorry.” 

But Ray just stared at him, straight in the eyes, as if he was looking into his very soul. They stood like that for a few minutes, Brad wondering if he had messed this all up. When he’d arrived at Nevada, Missouri, he’d planned on convincing Ray to go on one last road trip with him and maybe slowly build this friendship into something more. 

And now. Now he’d probably leave here without any of that being possible ever again, losing one of his best friends because of his drunken and muddled thoughts.

Turning around, plans of heading back home and hitting the road on his bike in order to forget all of this on his mind, he started to go towards the door when Ray spoke up.

“Finally, you piece of shit. Do you know how long I’ve waited for your constipated ass to come to the conclusion that we are a match made in a gay ass heaven?” Ray asked, his eyes alight with fire. “Too fucking long. And when you do confess your everlasting love for me you mess it up and decide to fuck off to who knows where. I’ll give you brownie points for sincerity though. So I’m telling you this right now, Bradley Colbert, yes I used your full first name. It’s that serious. Are you listening to me?”

“Yes…” replied Brad, mind racing with what Ray was saying.

“I know what I want, when I want it. So get over here.”

Meeting each other halfway, their hands all over each other and their lips intense, it was as if both of them were trying to make up for lost time. Brad stooped down, his tongue exploring Ray’s mouth, head still dizzy at the thought that this was actually happening. Ray, meanwhile, was tugging his lower to his level, his hands in Brad’s hair and legs wrapped around his waist.

And that’s how they spent the next few hours, hidden from view from the rest of the world.


End file.
